


Playing the Devil's Trumpet

by ledeuxiemesexe



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-24
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-08 22:07:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3225176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ledeuxiemesexe/pseuds/ledeuxiemesexe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Antarctica. Two scientists and lovers brave the hardship and the madness willfully induced by drugs consumption</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> the drug of choice is Datura - a shrubby annual plant with large, erect, trumpet-shaped flowers, native to southern North America. They contain toxic or narcotic alkaloids and are used as hallucinogens by some American Indian peoples. due to the flower shape and its effects, it is also called the Devil’s trumpet, which is where the title comes from. also, in the fic setting it is the easiest accessible substance of the kind.

**PROLOGUE**

**_(presentation in third person)_**

In the middle of the gigantic, enveloping whiteness, the complex of buildings looked unequivocally lonely. Painted in various shades of brown, for reasons unknown, the few buildings forming an L shape were the only man made things as far as eyes could see.

The man shuffled his feet through the snow, going from one station into the main building, that housed the living area: bedrooms, kitchen, recreational room, couple of bathrooms.

He opened the door carefully, even if the antechamber was not really properly heated, because it still is at least 20 degrees warmer than outside and then closed it down fast, pushing hard against the sudden gust of wind. He barred it and proceeded to take off his hoodie and his goggles.

His face was frozen stiff and all he did was walk 40 bloody yards from the weather station to the ‘dorm’ as it was called. Just 40 bloody yards and his face, slowly warming up, began to sting, skin stretching again.

He lowered the neck and face warmer and removing his gloves, rubbed his chin and cheeks to diminish the sensation of burn. Leaving behind goggles and gloves, he walked in the next room, a hall where the temperature was constantly of 15 degrees. There, he could take off his padded coat, boots, and then the padded jumpsuit as well, remaining in insulating tights that were supposed to keep his legs warm and a matching insulating sweater.

Slipping into comfortable plush slippers, Carles Puyol entered the main room – warm, oh so pleasantly warm, after all the cold, the 25 degrees welcoming him in pleasantly even after the intermediate hall, and left his bag full of papers and annotations on the table by the door.

He looked around the room, large, tidy, with comfortable armchairs and a multimedia station, and he wanted to know two things, firstly what was for dinner, as he was positively starving, and the second, where was Sergio. He had not seen him at all since the other day and he was beginning to be a little worried.

Not too worried, it wasn’t like the biologist could go anywhere, or get lost in the immensity of nothingness that surrounded the inhabited area of the South Pole, but for as long as he could remember, and as caught up in his experiments as he may have been, Sergio had never once failed to show up for at least five minutes for a kiss and / or a bite (to eat), or just to let Carles know he was OK, still working, making progress, being almost there.

And if he remembered correctly, Sergio had disappeared from his sight – admittedly, Carles had been busy as well – since breakfast yesterday. As he searched the whole house, including the most remote of the bathrooms and the greenhouse, he became quite angry.

Being stuck in Antarctica – maybe not exactly stuck, since they had both agreed to come there – was really not helping when it came to gathering a search party. It got increasingly cold “at night” for reasons he couldn’t yet comprehend – which was exactly why he was there in the first place, to study the weather shifts during the 6 months of summer – and the laboratory was the building farthest from the dorm.

It certainly didn’t help that the last things said between them were curse words, now as long as two days ago, since yesterday, at that damned breakfast, they sat in complete silence, both too hurt in their male ego and too proud to admit to the pain and to apologize or even step away from the fight, let go of it and just start the morning afresh.

It was too damn hard to keep being polite and nice to each other, at least from time to time, in an attempt to keep their relationship from falling apart, to at least remain civil, on speaking terms with each other. And what 10 months ago had seemed like a good idea, coming to this research station, each with a fabulous assignment, with a life-changing project, had dwindled down and turned into a complete farce.

Their relationship had started on the very first day they had met, at the European Institute for Scientific Research in Geneva, almost 4 years ago. Carles was in the midst of his doctorate, a long complicated thesis on extreme weather conditions – so he shouldn’t really complain he was getting to study such weather first hand, while Sergio was still a student and barely an intern with the biology department, assisting professor Rustenberg in his research of the least evolved life forms.

And just so it happened, both these least evolved life forms could mostly be found living in extreme weather conditions, and prof. Rustenberg was an old friend and colleague of Carles’ father, the Sr. professor Puyol. It was an odd meeting, more like an odd set up, as the old professor Mr. Rustenberg, followed by the young – oh, barely 20 – and eager to learn, basically carrying the older man’s briefcase, Sergio Busquets, personally came to check out some things about the extreme weather conditions and Carles Puyol was the only one at the Meteorology department, everyone else being on holiday.

Carles had been impressed, to the point of distress, by the tall, young, lean yet strong Catalan. Even if in the first few minutes, only the Professor talked, it was Sergio’s inner music that Carles heard, enthralling him completely. And Sergio had been ravished by the hunger in the other man’s eyes and by the pure unsettlement he caused him just by looked at him, noticing beyond any reasonable doubt, that the other Catalan could give him the fire he had been needing and quite unsuccessfully looking for, for so long.

Flirting – or rather trying their hardest not to – in front of the Professor, in front of Puyol’s old man’s friend, got them to a level of intimacy that they knew they need to explore further.

And thus, a relationship flourished. Sergio was living on the campus but soon moved in Carles’ small but comfortable studio. The initial purely physical, instinctual attraction to each other never faded, but soon enough conflicts emerged, due to their distinctive and powerful personalities.

Sergio grew as a person and as a scientist, graduated and began being involved in projects, while Carles had more and more work to do, with the global warming process speeding up weather and climate changes across the world.

They grew apart yet stuck together, because they couldn’t shake the feeling, the feeling each of them had, that they were meant for each other. And not in a way soulmates would be, since none of them believed in such sappy stuff, but in a deeper, more intricate no-one-in-the-world-would-get-me-better-than-you type of way.

They were too stubborn to let go, to start afresh, to go away and have to admit they had been wrong that day in the Meteorology Department’s office, they were researching scientists who spent all day in labs, staring at blinking screens and reading tons of papers and simply didn’t have the strength to move away from the comfort their – shaky – domestic life brought them.

Because at the end of the day, literally long, hard day, they had a ‘home’ to come to and even the fights, misunderstandings and various arguments were better than staring at the emptiness that would have been their solitary lives, their lives without the other in it.

Because they had their paths all set ahead for them, brilliant scientists to be, but lonely, lonely human beings, unless they held on to each other, even if they were so young and still had what normal people call a whole life ahead, they knew, deeply, painfully accurate, that this was their only love, the only affection of this nature granted to them by a God – or whatever supreme being neither of them – as scientists – believed in – that was so stingy with what They offered Their humans when it came to happiness and romance.

So, even if sometimes they wanted to beat the crap out of each other and maybe even kill each other, in any way, physically hurt the other, just to stop the mental anguish for just a few peaceful and hard to obtain minutes, they knew they had no choice but to carry on, to spend hours hating each other and sometimes minutes of still loving each other, as the only alternative to not having any sort of feelings for anyone and be simply dead on the inside.

The biologist, researching animals living in hard conditions, knew their love or at least their spark still lived deep down, despite it being burned alive, or frozen to death, protected by a helmet, a cloak, a shield nothing could break nor tear from the outside, just like his beloved insects did.

And the meteorologist, researcher of storms and impossible freeze and meltdowns, knew that their fits of rage at each other and their lack of comprehension for the other, their moments of clashing and of not getting along would end just like all things end, that they were on a cycle, just like his beloved weather was, ever changing, even the harshest weather, even the biggest storms.

So their relationship, holding down to a thread, sometimes so thin, only the most powerful microscope in the Institute could reveal, continued, simply continued, as thwarted as it was.

And when the Institute initiated a project that would send a biologist and a meteorologist all the way into the solitude and the peacefulness of Antarctica, by the very geographic South Pole, they both knew with all their hearts that it was them that had to go, that the whole project was made for them and them alone, allowing them to discover the world in its natural setting. And that beyond all the scientific reasons, beyond the fortune and glory this project would bring, crowing their research with tangible discoveries, they knew the place beckoned them for one thing in particular.

The place and time to fix things between them. And even the mere fact that they thought the same thing, that they started the discussion heatedly, excitedly and with the same fire in their eyes and want in their hearts, was reason enough to tell both of them, and each of them, that it would work.

Far from the crowd, from long hours indoors, from bosses and papers and reports to write and from the ton of other people and things that got between them and the host of petty every day life events and occurrences that set them off their hearts’ true track was a place – the place – better than any, for them to reignite the spark and find each other’s soul again.

Of course, neither of them imagined, not even in their wildest and most pessimistic dreams, that Antarctica and the new kind of hardship, the new type of intrusion in their couple life and the all surrounding, all powering white, would prove to be more of a trap for their tortured hearts and for their sinuous relationship, and not a haven, certainly not the place of its resurrection they had imagined it to be.

And the surreal quietness and the fierce hiss of the wind-storms and the endless dark of the winter then followed by the brittle, harsh light of the summer, the hypothermia inducing cold and above all, the white, whiter than white surroundings and the snow, hard, soft, but all over the place, like an unavoidable bane of humanity, did more bad than good to their peace of mind, to their balance and ultimately to their affection for one another.

Fights all the time followed by maddening silences and loneliness that made each of them howl just to feel, for the few seconds the echo lasted, that they were not alone, that they were not separated from the world, that there wasn’t in reality only one person they could rely on, a person they mostly hated, and sometimes felt pity for, and fury and anger and last but not least, unbearable sadness for.

And they were stuck, for 2 more months, until their shift was over and they would be rescued, oh returned to the world they had been so happy to flee from and willingly bury themselves in a tomb of ice.

Carles looked out the window deep in thought, noting that another windstorm had started and it was sensibly darker, but not dark enough for him to feel like it was a normal, regular evening. It was not the best time to go out again and all the way to the laboratory, but he promised himself that after dinner he would do it.

Not for Sergio, who probably didn’t even fucking care, but for his own peace of mind.


	2. The Hallucinarium of Dr. Busquets (1)

**The hallucinarium of Dr. Busquets - 1**

**_(1st person ramble)_ **

 

I felt reality shift and change. I was still slightly aware of the surroundings, of where I was, in my laboratory, and I was still conscious enough that I had taken Datura. That I had ingested a quantity large enough to soon carry me in an alternate reality, a place hopefully better than the one my mind had desperately fled from. Overall, a quantity large enough to severely affect my brain cells even after the current high would be over.

I was still aware of myself and of my action, of my willfully inflicted madness, and I knew that shortly, I would succumb to a first set of hallucinations. I was giddy like a schoolboy at the mere thought. I was expecting them to drag me into a world of wonder and I only regretted that I would never be able to remember what had happened, that I would never be sane enough to know what I saw, to describe and analyze the visions in rational terms. A small price to pay for all that wonder soon to be bestowed on me. 

I stared out the window, the laboratory offering an ample view of the white I hated with all my being, the whiteness that almost took my sanity away, a sanity I was trading now for any change a scenery the Datura effects would bring. I just wanted to create my own mind's instability, rather than succumb to a slow loss of my mental functions. I wanted to escape by my own means. 

And soon, I began to feel I was sinking into a pool of jelly, engulfing me, wrapping my body into a delicious sensation of floating. The edges of the laboratory blurred, as if I were looking around me through dirty goggles. The white wall in front of me started morphing, exploding into soft blues and pinks and purples, making my tired eyes drip with unadulterated joy. I knew I was close, that soon, oh so soon, my agony, the agony of whiteness and endless daylight would be over.

The world was changing before me, taking shapes and colours I had never seen before, the sensation of warmth taking over me, as the jelly hugged me tight, protecting me from the cold, from the ugly, from the bad. I felt my chest expand in a long awaited breath, the fresh air of freedom almost suffocating me. 

I moved from the window, and the shapes came into the room with me, following me like puppies, like loyal servants that would tend to each of my every need. My heart was filled with a joy I had never felt before, seeing all that beauty spreading over the cold tiles of the room. 

Where was I, I couldn't tell nor did it matter, the walls were luminous and the artifacts spread on each and every surface looked interesting. I moved towards one of these surfaces and picked a heavy metallic object lifting it to look at it in the pale green light, it's surface polished and cold. 

It was lifeless and told me no story, no fantasy tale, it was inanimate. I let it fall, all the way to the crawling floor under me and seeing it crushed to the ground startled me, because how could something so sturdy looking get smashed to smithereens so easily? The mystery of life laid before me and I could uncover it, after man's search of millennia. 

Dropping to my knees, I pressed my cheek to the pieces of glass and metal spread between my palms and listened to their cry of pain. It was beyond terrifying, and I understood lifeless items could die too. 

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry,” I whispered, trying to obtain death's forgiveness.

But it would not talk to me, as death and dead objects usually are not communicative. I turned on my back, hot tears of remorse streaming from my eyes, looking at the high ceiling that suddenly plunged down on me, dark and dense, to crush me, to punish me for my criminal act.

I felt its burden on my chest, suffocating me, cold sweat drowning me, I wanted to fight it, but the black ceiling was covering me in its dark fury and so I punched it, I tore it, I ripped through the ceiling and managed to sit up, pieces of ceiling floating next to me, some of it blue, some of it black, like an ever changing cloud. I brought only destruction to the word, I couldn't help but think. 

I kicked it with my foot and it flew in the distance, in a secret place that I felt was beckoning me. I got up shaking with all the effort and paced towards that place, where a light was trembling onto a polished surface, a puddle of clear water, that stung me when I touched it.

The flame died under my hand and I felt a familiar burn, and then the eternal sadness of a killer of all things alive took over me, I was a monster. I ran away from the extinguished light as far as I could, and huddled into a corner, shivering from fear of retaliation.

I moved my hands across my torso, I wasn't harmed, I was still in one piece and I saw figures across from me and they were filled with so much love, so much tenderness, that I knew they would forgive me for my sins.

I embraced the light and it whispered to me, in a mystical language that I understood and even spoke. The words were soft and fluffy, like cotton candy.

“I will always remember you, I will always follow you, wherever you may take me. For we are nothing without you, oh fair entity, we are mere slabs of meat and bones, and it is you, in your great wisdom that gives us spirit, that gives us a reason to breathe, a reason to exhale.”

I traced my fingers across its surface and it was plush, soft and velvety, it was welcoming and I could feel the wounds in my soul healing by its magical touch. I felt like submerging into it, in its caress. 

I lied on the floor, inebriated with the wondrous feeling of complete bliss I was feeling, as it inundated my chest, radiating from my whole body. The colourful shapes in the air beamed at me and the soft light infiltrating from the wide window from a bright, beautiful world, made me feel completely loved, entirely safe and protected.

Then there was silence, beautiful, meaningful silence, that massaged my temples and calmed my soul. Everything was so peaceful, everything was so delightfully sublime, the world such a fascinating experience and I was extremely content to be part of it.

I rolled on my belly and the smooth plush surface ended, throwing me into an abyss of cold tiles, scratching at my skin, poisoning my self containment, making me get up.

“Treacherous stone.” I bellowed and took on a path of self discovery and enlightenment that abruptly ended when I reached a table with bright lights pouring from it. The liquid like surface beeped slowly and when I pressed my finger to it, it blurred under my touch, like molten, cold lava.

“Molten cold lava!” I shouted the concept in the room, because somehow I knew I was indoors. 

The words sounded funny on my lips, the nonsense seeping into my brain, into my whole system, I could feel it crawling under my skin.

The more I thought of it, the more I stared and made molten lava tracks on the blinking surface, the more sense it made to me, until a light appeared in my brain, it was not lava, it was a fifth element, the element souls are made of, and I could touch it and study it.

I was excited by my discovery and in an attempt to contain it, to sample it, I pushed my palms too hard against it and the beautiful contraption fell and shattered to pieces. The fifth element was gone, dead. I had killed again and I had shattered the hopes of all human kind in finding the recipe for a perfect soul.

I collapsed to the floor and shook, desperately, rocking back and forth, because this was a sin bigger than any, I had ruined the humanity's collective soul, my hands should whither and fall off, I could feel my heart contracting painfully inside.

I knew punishment from the ethereal beings that hovered above me was not enough, I knew they would be coming for me and fear, sudden, petrifying fear, coursed through my body.

I was too young to die. I was not a bad person, if I could only explain that it was my lack of experience with such things that caused it, that it was merely an accident, that it was, by no means, intentional.... The sweet silence and my rush of thoughts were suddenly halted by a creaking sound. I gazed fearfully in the direction it was coming from.

A shadow, a grotesque shadow had entered my cocoon, my world away from the world. It was too soon, too soon to be caught, to be trapped. The monster, larger than life, looking fierce, called out a booming name.

I shriveled in my skin, contorting on the ground.

He was dangerous and he was coming towards me, with giant steps, cracking on the stone slabs. I crawled back, as fast as I could, but I was weak, I was afraid, heavy with fear and anger, because who was this monster, this punisher, who claimed my earthly body?

“No, no. No.,” I cried, he couldn't come closer. 

He locked eyes with mine, daring and blue like the sea in the pretty light, burning with hatred and ferociousness. My soul was shattered, his cruel eyes torched all the peace in my heart.

It was him, not I, who needed to be destroyed, removed from the world, before he did something unpardonable. I could feel my hatred raising, replacing fear. It was him that was bringing ugliness into my perfect world, and I needed to protect it.

And then, his ugly feet stepped onto the plushy wonder, and my heart screamed in agony.

“Don't, it is sacred, it is sacred!” I spoke, I pleaded, I shouted, but the creature would not back off, but walked across its healing surface, ignoring me.

He spoke to me in a barbaric language, language I could understand, but that I refused to process, his words falling on closed ears, as I denied them access to my pure body.

He could not continue to desecrate the Mother of souls and hunt me down like I was a dangerous animal. I needed to act up, I needed to defend Her honor, maybe amend my mistakes, avenge my own crimes with my heroic actions.

I shouted a warrior shout and launched myself at him, catching him off balance and pushing him to the ground. I grabbed the Mother of all creatures, silently whispering incantations that would calm Her down, that would make Her understand I was removing her from Her throne for Her own good.

I wobbled under Her sweet but none the less heavy weight towards the exit, looking over my shoulder at the fallen beast I was leaving behind, who was again shouting at me, words I refused to understand. 

He was slow, in that hideous body armour he was wearing, I was light as a feather, even carrying the great Mother, so I stepped towards the light, before he could ever get up to follow me, the shy, crepuscular, light outside welcoming me with open arms, and so I stepped into the open, the vast garden outside.

It was beautiful, but the cold....the cold stabbed at my chest, at every cell in my body, and even embraced by the awesomely protective Mother, who hugged me tight, shading me from the blistering frost, I felt hammered, pushed by ice fingers into nothingness.

I cried for Mother's help, but Her healing powers were waning once outside, once dragged out of Her castle, out of Her natural environment. Tears of fear and remorse for Her misfortune, for Her perishing, for my own possible death froze on my face as soon as they sprung from my eyes.

It was hopeless, I could not even help myself, little less help Her....

I collapsed, unable to hold myself anymore, and Mother fell with me, covering my body, one last gesture of Her great protective soul, of Her generous spirit, cradling me even if I was to blame for Her dying and I could feel life leaving my body, and I saw the monster rushing towards me, but before I could even think of retreat, of how I would be devoured by its merciless jaws, everything turned black.


End file.
